Why
by PennyGirl
Summary: Marshall's point of view from "something wrong"


Disclaimer: I do not own In Plain Sight or any of its characters and am not making any money off of this.

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**Why**

The sheets were pink. Pale, very fine, with fawn colored vines stitched on the edges for a border. The pillows overflowed to the floor, and Marshall opened his eyes in the dawn light to see blonde strands fanned out across them.

_Marshall chuckled. "These do not look like something you'd pick."_

_Mary sighed and plopped herself down on the edge."Jinx bought them. Said I needed something "pretty". She shrugged. 'I've gotten used to them." she picked at an errant thread. "What colors are yours?"_

Her shoulders were bare, and he knew that under those pale pink sheets, so was everything else. He'd seen it…seen her.

And she'd seen him. Had finally relaxed enough to let him in; to offer invitation.

_"God, this party blows."_

_Marshall grinned from his place on one of the corner chairs as Mary took a slug from her drink and handed it off to the passing waiter. "I would've thought you'd be enjoying these festivities. Especially since Peter has paid for an open bar. As well as all necessary cab rides home."_

_Mary snorted. "Peter only paid for the bar till nine o clock. Brandi says because he wanted people to watch themselves tonight."_

_"Really now?" Marshall asked. "I sense you have a solution to this problem. Especially since it is mow…" Marshall eyed his watch. "Nine fifteen.'_

_"Sure do," Mary said. "It's called my liquor cabinet." She reached for his glass and finished off the last of his drink for him. "Wanna come?"_

He ran a hand over the curve of her shoulder and down the side of her arm. She shifted at the touch, and he stilled his movements, but she did not wake. She merely rolled onto her stomach and further exposed the skin of her back. He waited to see if she'd wake, and when she didn't, he continued to trace the outlines of her skin.

_"Whiskey or tequila?" Mary asked._

_Marshall eyed her as she stood there in front of him. She was still dressed for the party, some flowery thing with straps that kept slipping off her shoulders. There was a bottle in each hand, glasses before her on the black of the granite counter. She smiled at him happily as he looked at each bottle and considered. Then, for a few moments, he looked at her. "How much have you had?" he asked._

_Mary shrugged. "Not much really." She put the bottles on the counter. "That delay at the office cut back on my open bar booze time tonight." _

_"That's not like you," Marshall said. "Not to partake of free food or alcohol."_

_Mary sighed and made her way around the counter to where Marshall sat on a bar stool. He eyed her as she walked, and turned to face her as she came closer. It was mere moments, but to him it was drawn out like the slow drip of honey. She bit her lip as she came closer, and Marshall did not know whether to pull back or lean closer as she came to stop and rest herself between his legs, she smiled at him, and he smelled lavender from her hair. He suspected her shampoo. _

_She leaned closer, and Marshall could feel the movement of her breath._

_"You smell nice," Marshall said, as she leaned in closer. _

_As her lips came in close to his, she smiled, and he could feel the movement against his own. _

"_Thanks,' she said, and closed the distance._

Her back dipped before it disappeared beneath the sheets, and he made his way to its center to trace up her spine. He paused at her scar on the way, its darkened tone against her skin a reminder that outside these walls, outside the quiet of her home, there was danger to the both of them. Every day, they were at risk. Every day, they ran the chance of losing each other.

Then, all of a sudden, it hit him that as much as he wanted this, wanted her, he did not want to face losing her. Her getting shot was bad enough. But if ever there was worse…

He didn't know if he could handle it. The thought was just too much.

Marshall pulled back, and sighed as he realized what he was about to do.

He turned to look at her once more, trying not to wake her, but the movement shifted her, and caused her to wake. Slowly, her eyes drifted open, and she looked over at him to smile softly. "Good morning," he said, knowing he would not escape quietly after all.

Mary saw the sun outside and groaned. "No daylight, it's too early."

Marshall chuckled. "No such thing as too early."

Mary snorted and rolled over so she could sit up. She tucked the sheets around her as she did, and Marshall felt a pull at the losing the sight of her skin. Looking over at Marshall, she sighed. "So…do we talk? Ignore and forget? Put it off for later?"

Marshall sighed to himself, and leaned up to kiss her on the lips. As she was leaning into it, he pulled away. She gazed at him curiously, and he looked away. "I'm sorry," he said, and left the bed.

"Marshall?" she asked.

But he left her, and ran away.

* * *

She called him on it. They lasted five days before they hashed it out. She ignored him the entire time, and Marshall couldn't get a word in edgewise to explain to her he was sorry. To tell her, that he'd made a mistake walking away. That he'd realized how much of an idiot he was the second he walked out that door. But he knew, as soon as he went back, she would snap, wouldn't want to listen. Her temper would cloud her mind and he wouldn't be able to explain. So he kept walking. Went to his car and drove away. He'd meant what he said about her being childish; she hadn't been willing to hear him out, to listen like an adult. It took her throwing that mug at him for him to finally get the courage to ignore everything she was doing to avoid him and just make her listen.

Their conversation in the elevator was short, but he asked her to let him drive her home, and their conversation there was longer. They discussed what had happened. He told her why he'd run. He'd been scared. He truly was the hypocrite she claimed. She'd given him messy, and he'd run from it faster than she did the first proposal from Raph. Then, she spoke, and told him when she realized that everything he'd said was right... that she wanted messy after all, needed someone to call her out, needed someone to _be_ what she had never really known she wanted, or needed.

They decided then, there would be no more running from either of them. They were both all in. the cards were on the table. And they had shown their hands.

And Monday, when Eleanor opened the supply closet, she got an eyeful and saw where exactly Mary let Marshall put his.

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A/N: Alright this is the sort of prequel/sequel to Something Wrong. I hope everyone likes it like they did that one. Please let me know what you think and review!


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